


Do-Over

by fictionallemons



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Benji is gay, Benthan, Benthan is endgame, Condoms, Dirty Talk, Ethan is Bi, F/M, Foot Fetish, For a mission, Guilt, Happy Ending, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mission Fic, Penis In Vagina Sex, Voyeurism, Yes benji has sex with a woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionallemons/pseuds/fictionallemons
Summary: "I'm not usually the one who has to try to be charming, etc.," Benji says."Don't try, Benji. Just be yourself." Ethan smiles, warm and reassuring. Benji supposes there's a compliment there, but he also knows Ethan would say anything to make the op a success, and right now, the op depends on Benji being confident enough to make it work."Besides, I'll be able to see and hear everything you can," Ethan reminds him. "If you want, I can coach you through it every step of the way."





	Do-Over

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Codename: Hawkeye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/433026) by [eldur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldur/pseuds/eldur). 



> Please heed the tags, and if you think I should add any, please let me know!  
> This fic was inspired by a wonderful Will/Benji fic called Codename: Hawkeye by eldur.

Benji adjusts his bow tie for the fifth time, smooths down his hair, checks his comm.

"Relax," Ethan says through the comm. "You look great." He's only in the room next door, but he's recovering from a bullet wound and quarterbacking tonight's mission from the control room in the safe house. Will's on point, while Luther will be running the security interference from the server room in the basement of the hotel. 

Normally, Benji would hold that position, but with Ethan laid up, everyone's jobs have been juggled. And Benji has another reason for donning a tux and being tasked with drawing out their target tonight, while Will is the one who will be sneaking into the antechamber to grab the disc they need. The target is known to Benji—she's a old colleague of his at MI5, where he got his start right out of Oxford. 

Laura Coburn, MI5 agent and traitor, has been selling state secrets to the highest bidder, and tonight they may be able to kill two birds with one stone—get enough evidence on her betrayal to hand over to British intelligence, thereby earning a favor from them, and get the information they need to stop an impending chemical weapon attack.

Benji hasn't seen Laura in years, but he remembers her being ruthlessly efficient and almost pathologically attracted to risk. He's not surprised that she ended up on the wrong side of the game eventually. He will be surprised if she even remembers him, but Ethan says it's the one advantage they have in this situation and they have to exploit it.

Benji's task: to capture Coburn's attention so Luther can help Will break into her hotel room, decrypt the disc with the intel on it and infect it with a tracker, all while a fundraiser for a charity to build wells in Africa is in full swing in the ballroom on the main floor.

"All set, Agent Dunn?"

"Er, affirmative." It feels strange to be going into an op as himself. They have code names of course, but Benji is just Benji tonight: former MI5 techie now working for an unspecified government agency. Coburn might know that he's IMF, or she might not. Either way, his aim is the same. Monopolize her, create a window for Will to do his thing, rendezvous back here where he'll be able to get rid of the tie that feels like it's slowly strangling him.

No, not really. He knows what it feels like to be strangled and the tie doesn't even come close. He shakes off the feeling of unease, checks his comm again.

"You're going to do great," Ethan says, this time in person as he walks into Benji's room. He's mobile, but one arm's in a sling to keep the wound from opening up again. He's wearing sweats and a black t-shirt. Benji glances down. He's barefoot, too. Fuck. Benji has a tiny, secret thing for Ethan's feet. Right now, that's neither here nor there, as Ethan is as off limits as he is attractive, which is to say, very.

"I'm not usually the one who has to try to be charming, etc.," Benji says.

"Don't try, Benji. Just be yourself." Ethan smiles, warm and reassuring. Benji supposes there's a compliment there, but he also knows Ethan would say anything to make the op a success, and right now, the op depends on Benji being confident enough to make it work.

"Besides, I'll be able to see and hear everything you can," Ethan reminds him. "If you want, I can coach you through it every step of the way."

"Well, let's see how I do on my own, first, shall we?" The idea of Ethan having to feed him lines like an over the hill soap star is slightly humiliating, and just the motivation he needs to square his shoulders and head to the party with a bit more spring in his step. Sure, Ethan will be able to hear everything through the comm, see everything through Benji's glasses, but Benji isn't hopeless. He can be charming. He can get a woman to talk to him for more than five minutes. He can do this, dammit. He'll make Ethan proud.

***

"I have eyes on Coburn," Benji murmurs. "She's at the bar."

"Copy that, Christopher Robin," Ethan says. "Eeyore's in position. Anytime you're ready." Benji rolls his eyes at the code names. Ethan picked them this time, probably so he could needle Will by calling him Eeyore. Luther is Tigger, and Ethan is, naturally, Pooh. 

He takes a deep breath. He watches the target for a minute. Laura Coburn is an attractive woman. Her file indicates she was forty five on her last birthday, but she could pass for a decade younger. She's wearing a sleek dark blue wrap-around dress, silver heels showing off killer legs. Her dark brunette hair is cut in a chin-length bob. He can't see her eyes from here, but he remembers from the file they're green. She actually has similar coloring to—

 _Stop_ , Benji scolds himself. _Focus on the mission, not on finding weird ways to tie this back to your crush on Ethan._

Speaking of Ethan, he's been silent on the comm. Probably giving Benji the space to do this his way. Benji appreciates the confidence he's placing in him. He squares his shoulders. Maybe that's what he should do—channel Ethan. What would Ethan do in this situation?

Benji strolls up the bar, a few spots down from Coburn. He imagines he's a wealthy tech CEO on the prowl for an evening's entertainment. It's been a while since he picked someone up, but it's not like he's never done it before. It's just that since becoming a field agent, his lifestyle really hasn't lent itself to relationships, and Benji has never been the type to excel at one-and-done encounters. He's more of an obsess-over-an-unattainable-crush-for-a-few-years-until-he-gives-up-and-finds-someone-more-in-his-league-to-date-until-they-realize-they're-not-that-into-each-other-and-it-ends-awkwardly type.

So, it's been a while since he's been on the dating scene, since most of his time is spent either backing Ethan up one crazy scheme after another or thinking about Ethan in highly inappropriate ways. But how hard could it be?

He orders a vodka tonic because later he can switch to water and manage to appear as if he's continuing to drink. He exchanges a few words with the bartender, scans the crowd casually, until finally making eye contact with Laura briefly, before moving his gaze over as if he hasn't recognized her. When he swivels his head back again, she's definitely staring at him, as if trying to place him. He knows he looks different—fifteen years have passed, after all. And dress suits and bowties were not his normal work wear in the MI5 offices. Still, something must be raising Coburn's alarm bells, because she has her eyes narrowed now. He smiles at her, tips his drink. She smiles back, wide and seemingly genuine, then closes the distance between them.

"Benjamin Dunn! I never forget a face."

***

Thirty minutes later, Benji's trying to concentrate on a story Laura is telling him about one of their old bosses at MI5 while keeping tabs on Ethan's updates. It wasn't difficult to get Laura into conversation, or sequester her in a far corner of the ballroom, or keep her plied with drinks. Benji gets the sense that no matter her faults, she's essentially kind of a lonely person, who's traitorous extracurricular activities have isolated her from a normal life. He wonders if she thinks the extra cash is worth it. 

"Uh, Christopher Robin, Eeyore's hit a snag," Ethan's voice comes on the comm for the first time in a few minutes.

Benji hums, in response to both Ethan and Laura's tale.

"We're going to need a little more time. You're doing great. Keep her busy."

Benji sighs internally. He stifles a yawns. But this is important, so he grins at Laura as she wraps up her story. "I can't believe it's been fifteen years," he says, warmly.

"Don't remind me." She pouts a little. "I'm getting so old."

"Nonsense," Benji says, ready to appease her blatant play for compliments. "You look fantastic. Pilates?"

"I actually work with a trainer who's got me on this ridiculous boot camp style regimen. But it works. I can eat positively whatever I want." Her gaze drops somewhere to the vicinity of Benji's lap, and then rises again. "Want to see?"

There's a sort of aborted sneezing sound on the comm. Benji tunes Ethan out and tries for a witty comeback. "Uh." It doesn't work.

"I've got a room upstairs if you'd like to come up for a nightcap." She's all but purring now, and Benji would have been out of there like a shot, except that her room is the last place he wants her to be right now.

"Why don't we go to mine?" Benji blurts out. They had booked a suite as a contingency, and he was glad for the solid weight of the keycard in his pocket. He'd stretch out the ride up to the top floor, make her a drink, and hopefully Will will have completed the op before Benji has to do something he's really unprepared to do.

"Eager, are we?" Laura says. She puts down her drink. "I'm ready whenever you are."

Benji's glad he's only had the one drink, or maybe he regrets not being a little less inhibited. He steers her toward the elevators, pressing the number for his floor. She leans into his side. He can smell her perfume, something floral and flirty.

"Do you mind if I stop on ten and pick up some…supplies?" she asks.

"No," Ethan says immediately and forcefully. "Do not let her return to her room."

Before Ethan finishes talking, Benji's moving to box Laura in, his arms on either side of her, pushing her against the wall of the elevator. He kisses her instead of answering. She's soft and small against him, and she kisses back eagerly, thrusting her tongue into his mouth with purpose. Benji keeps her locked in his embrace, keeps their mouths together until the elevator slides to a stop and dings softly to indicate their arrival on the top floor.

"I can't wait, darling," he says throatily. Her eyes gleam in response and she lets him guide her, hand on her waist, to the door of the suite he's never been in before. Benji freezes once they're safely inside the room. There's a small suitcase on the bed—Benji remembers Luther had been in charge of prepping the room before he took up his position in the basement. He half expects Laura to drag him straight to the bed, but she kicks off her heels and heads for the bathroom.

"I'm just going to freshen up."

"Don't take too long," Benji drawls, then breathes out a sigh when she closes the bathroom door behind her. He goes to the suitcases, flips open the top.

"You'll find anything you need in the side zip pocket," Ethan says. He voice sounds strange.

"Exactly how much time does Eeyore need?" Benji bites out. He's not going to panic. Yet. His hand closes over a box of condoms, and various other things. But he pulls everything out and puts it in the night table drawer, then sets the suitcase on the floor.

Ethan takes a moment to respond. "At least seventeen minutes. Sorry. There's a holdup with decrypting the files. We have to make it look like nothing was disturbed or we'll lose our chance to trace this back to her buyer."

Seventeen minutes sounds like an eternity. "Understood."

"Look, I'll keep you notified the second it's okay to cut her loose."

"Brilliant." Benji knows he's betraying his tension in his voice, but it can't be helped. He hears water running in the bathroom, feels his gut clench.

"She's a good-looking woman," Ethan says weakly.

"That's not the bloody point," Benji hisses. "I'm sure you'd be thrilled if you were in my shoes, but I am not exactly jumping for joy at this turn of events, _Pooh_."

Ethan doesn't respond right away. "I'm sorry. I can't see another way. But if you want to abort, I'll completely understand and I'll call it right now."

Benji's shocked. Ethan never aborts unless it's worst case scenario. "You would do that?"

"Yes." Ethan doesn't hesitate to respond that time.

Fuck. Ethan's right. This is the only way. Benji had accepted his mission and he's going to see it through. "No. It's okay." He takes a deep breath. "Just—could you, if you see me…struggling…could you talk me through it maybe?"

Ethan's voice is pitched so low that Benji almost misses his answer, as Laura comes out of the bathroom at the same moment. "Of course."

The comm falls silent, and Benji refocuses on the woman in front of him. She's barefoot. Her feet are small. Okay. It's been a very long time since Benji has had sex, and even longer since he's attempted sex with a woman, but he knows there's plenty of time for build-up. They don't have to jump into the main attraction right away. Sex, when done right, usually involves more than 17 minutes of foreplay anyway. Right?

"You're all the way over there," Laura says. "Perhaps I can tempt you to come closer." She unties the bow at her waist that holds her wrap dress together, pulls the fabric open to reveal a slim, strong body. A slim, strong, naked body. She's got nothing on underneath the dress; she lets it fall carelessly to the floor. Benji swallows. He senses the window of foreplay is closing a bit.

Ethan clears his throat over the comm. "Huh. Okay. You should probably go to her."

Benji wants to retort that if that's the level of coaching he's going to get from the great Ethan Hunt, he's better off on his own, but he can't. Instead, he steps out of his dressy shoes, and starts untying his bow tie as he walks toward the naked woman in his room. It feels good to get the tie off, to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. He takes deep, measured breaths, and places his hands on Laura's hips. Before he can lean in and kiss her again, she tilts her head and taps her finger on the bridge of his glasses. His special, video-enabled glasses through which Ethan is seeing everything that he sees.

"Do you really need those, Benjamin?"

"Ah—" before she can touch them further, Benji slides them off himself. He sets them on the night table, pointing toward the bed. Not that he _wants_ Ethan to be able to see him. But it seems like the safest thing to do under the circumstances. Luckily, he still has a microscopic earpiece that's still in place.

"That's better," she says, and then she kisses him. The kissing isn't terrible. She tastes like the expensive champagne she'd been drinking earlier at the bar. It feels a little bit nice, actually, to be this close to someone. It's been so long since Benji's been intimate with anyone. So long since his feelings for Ethan have made trying to be with anyone else feel pointless. But he's missed it, being this close to another human being. Even if this human happens to be a morally compromised traitor and the wrong gender, to boot.

Benji finds himself lying back on the bed, Laura straddling him, kisses deepening, as she unbuttons the rest of his shirt, revealing his chest and abdomen. She strokes her fingers over the ridges of his muscles, over a couple of the scars he's picked up since becoming a field agent.

"You're in amazing shape, yourself." She kisses her way down his chest. "Not exactly how I remember you, Benjamin."

Benji grunts when her tongue laps over a nipple. "Uh, yeah, I've got a trainer, too," he says. "He keeps me fighting fit."

"I'll say," she pushes his shirt completely away, reaches for his belt. The kissing has been fine, but Benji realizes that as soon as she undoes his belt she's going to realize her attentions haven't made much of an impact on certain parts of his anatomy.

He scrambles out from under her, notes her eyes widening in surprise. He hesitates, and then he hears Ethan's voice, steady and calm. "You're doing fine. Tell her there's no rush."

Benji nods almost imperceptibly. Ethan must be watching. He swallows against the confusing mixture of anxiety and arousal that knowledge brings him. "There's no rush, darling," he says. She relaxes back into the pillows. "Let me admire your trainer's work a little more," he says.

"Good, that's good," Ethan says, as Benji slots himself above Laura, and starts kissing his way down her neck. He spreads his hands over her waist, tries to remember the things his high school girlfriend used to like in those odd, uncomfortable days before he fully admitted to himself something he'd half known for years. No matter how sweet, funny, and pretty Emily had been, no matter how dutifully she laughed at his jokes, or how supportive she'd been of his amorphous dreams to make the world a better place, girls were really not his thing.

"Good," Ethan says again. "Move your hand to her breast."

Benji shakes off the sensation of wrongness at this entire situation, and does what Ethan says. He cups Laura's small, pert breast and squeezes. She sighs and arches into him. 

"That's good, you're doing so well." Benji feels better when Ethan talks to him. His voice, full of warmth, grounds Benji. And when Laura's hand on his neck pushes him down, he does the expected thing and closes his mouth around the tip of her breast only because Ethan's voice is there saying, "That's right. You can do this. Just like that. You're making her feel so good."

Benji lets out a little groan that Ethan must be able to hear, switches to her other breast. "You're making her feel good with your mouth, your tongue." Benji laps at her taut nipple, hearing Laura's breathy moans, Ethan's continuing words, "Your tongue, god, licking her, teasing her. She loves it. If you touch her, she'll be wet for you."

Benji has never in his life heard Ethan talk like this and he realizes with a start that he's growing hard in his trousers. He goes back to kissing Laura's mouth, lets his fingers wander south, trailing over the swell of her abdomen, through the sparse triangle of hair covering her sex. He's definitely out of his element, but he can tell she is, indeed, wet between her legs. She rocks up into his hand.

"She's wet, isn't she? You made her wet with your gorgeous mouth. That mouth, fuck—" Benji's not sure, but it sounds like Ethan's having to take a breath. What is happening right now? "—you could make her come just with your mouth, your tongue."

It's a nice thought, but Benji honestly doesn't think he's up to the task of going down on her. There are too many variables. But Laura takes the decision out of his hands by finally getting his belt undone.

"Keep. Going." Benji says. Laura takes it as an indication to continue undressing him, but the words are really meant for Ethan, who obliges. He listens to Ethan's stream of praise, of encouragement, as he slides out of the rest of his clothes. He and Laura are now both naked and the evidence of his arousal is on full display.

"Fuck. You—you're hard." Ethan's voice is unsteady, but somehow that waver goes straight to Benji's cock, makes it even harder. "She's right. You are in amazing shape. I wish you could see what I see. You are fucking beautiful right now, B—" Ethan stops himself before he says Benji's real name over the comm. Benji moans as Laura wraps her hand around his cock, starts stroking him firmly. With his eyes squeezed shut and the voice in his ear he can pretend it's someone else touching him.

"Does that feel good? You look incredible with your cock getting jerked like that. You're so fucking hot—"

"Condom?" Laura asks. Benji wrenches his eyes open, remembering who he's actually naked with. His mouth goes dry. Is he actually going to do this?

"Six minutes," Ethan says. "I'm sorry—I—I'll make it up to you. I'll make it right." His voice is wrecked, he sounds—guilty. But not just because he knows Benji doesn't want to do this. Because—

"You're enjoying this," Benji says.

Laura laughs. "I'd enjoy it more if you got that big fat prick inside me and got me off." Her crude words didn't do anything for Benji's arousal, not the way Ethan's dirty talk had turned him on. But he smiles at her anyway, reaches across her to the night table drawer and the condoms inside. He hesitates when his hand is near the glasses. He could shove them away.

He doesn't.

He places Laura's hand back around his cock. "Don't stop," he says. She starts stroking again. Ethan starts talking again.

"I'm not enjoying it, exactly," Ethan says. "I'm sorry, I, I can't help feeling…"

"Yes," Benji says. He takes over for Laura, stroking himself to full hardness in full view of the camera glasses.

"Fuck," Ethan breathes. Benji slowly dons a condom. Laura wraps herself around him, pulling him to her entrance. "I feel—I don't have to tell you I'm turned on right now, do I?"

Benji makes a noise, and plunges into Laura. She holds onto his waist, and tilts her pelvis up to meet him. He doesn't want this to be terrible for her, so he glances at her face, but she seems to be enjoying it. Her small breasts bounce delicately, and her cheeks are flushed red.

"Seeing you, hearing you, I can't help it, you're so—I've always wanted—and to see you, but not be able to touch you, to taste you, to tell you everything I've ever wanted you to do to me—it's torture. And now you're inside her, and I just have to watch you getting someone else off—but it's okay—I deserve it, because I'm making you do this and I don't deserve you. I never have. You deserve someone who wouldn't put you in this position and then fucking get off on—" the self-loathing wars with the arousal in Ethan's voice.

Benji wants to tell Ethan it's okay, it's okay for him to be turned on, it's okay for him to want Benji.

"Touch yourself," he says. Laura moans as she fingers her own clit with one hand and fondles a nipple with her other. But Benji is focused on the noises on the comm. Ethan's groan. His stifled gasp. 

"You want me to—I'm, oh, god, I'm so hard right now. You make me so hard. You're so beautiful and I want you so much and I—I can't—I"

"Yes," Benji grits out. "Do it. Come. Come for me." He slams into Laura harder as she starts to pant and chant "Yes," over and over again.

Ethan says nothing, but Benji can hear him choking off a groan. "That's right," Benji says. "Come on."

"Fuck, B—" It's barely a whisper but it's enough to send Benji over. He finishes, thinking about Ethan touching himself with his non-injured arm, spraying come into his hand, watching the video feed from the glasses on the monitor, the sound of Benji's harsh breathing in his ear.

The high of the orgasm dissipates quickly, as the reality of having a naked, not very nice woman, underneath him sinks in. He realizes he's just had sex in front of his best friend/team leader/crush. Ethan's voice, his words, had helped him go through with it, had helped him turn a distasteful task into something erotically satisfying. There were probably about ten red lines crossed there, professionalism-wise. 

As Benji disentangles himself and offers her a box of tissues, he tries not to freak out. Ethan had said things that couldn't be interpreted any other way than that Ethan actually _wanted_ Benji. On the other hand, Benji is well aware that Ethan will say, or do, anything, to get to the successful end of the mission. He dresses quickly, keeping up a flow of banter with Laura as she dons her dress.

"Eeyore is clear," Ethan says suddenly. "The op has been completed. You can cut Coburn loose, Christopher Robin."

Benji wants to roll his eyes. Great. Spectacular. At least he should be grateful that Laura doesn't seem interested in spending the night cuddling or anything awkward like that.

"Well, it was fate running into you, Benjamin," she says, as she slips into her shoes.

"Kismet," he agrees, forcing a smile.

"I won't embarrass you by asking for your number," she says. "But I had a nice time."

"Me too," he says quickly. "Want me to walk you to your door?"

"I'll be all right," she says. She leans in for one last kiss. "Good night."

He closes the door behind her and sags against it. He can't tell if that was the best, or the worst, sex he's ever had.

He clears his throat. "Coburn is on her way to her room."

"Good work, Christopher Robin," Ethan says. His voice sounds normal again. Benji wants to die. That whole thing—was it just Ethan doing what he had to do to get Benji through it? Had he imagined the desperation in Ethan's voice? Had they just permanently screwed up their friendship and working relationship because Benji was too gay to fuck a woman when the success of their mission depended on it?

Benji feels sick to his stomach. "I'm going to—uh—is it okay if I just stay here tonight instead of meeting at the rendezvous point?" He doesn't want to see Ethan now. He wants to take a long, hot shower, and sleep for a week.

"Oh, uh, are you sure?" Ethan sounds concerned.

"Does Tigger have a lock on the disc?"

"Affirmative."

"Then we won't need to move until the disc moves. And that probably won't be before morning. I'll keep my phone on if you need me before then."

"Okay." Ethan pauses. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay," Ethan says again. "Then—goodnight, Christopher Robin."

***

The shower helps. The miniature bottle of whisky that he downs before brushing his teeth helps even more. He's glad they never made it under the sheets, because he doesn't feel like sleeping in sheets that reek of sex right now.

He's about to finally, finally drift off to sleep, having cleared his mind of the way Ethan had groaned and said, "You're so beautiful and I want you so much," when there's a soft tapping on the door.

Benji swears softly and gets up, walking to the door silently. If Laura Coburn is on the other side of the door wanting a second round, he's going to pretend like he's not there. But it's not Laura he spies through the peephole. It's Ethan.

He's wearing jeans and a jacket that just hangs over the arm in the sling. Benji's stomach drops. He wishes he'd put on the plush bathrobe that came with the room, but he's just wearing his boxers. He debates, but then remembers Ethan's seen him in less than this tonight.

He opens the door.

Ethan looks dreadful. His eyes are rimmed red and his hair looks like he's been tugging on it so it sticks up every which way. He holds himself stiffly, as if not sure of the welcome he'll get from Benji. When he doesn't say anything or move to come inside Benji grows worried. Is he about to be taken off the team? Was there a problem with the disc? Is the mission fucked despite Benji's best efforts?

"What's going on?" Benji asks, finally, when he can't stand the suspense any longer. "Is there a problem with the intel?"

"No, actually," Ethan voice is hoarse. He clears his throat. "Luther's taken a look at the data and he was able to pinpoint the location of both the attack and the attackers. We've already got HQ sending in teams to neutralize. We did it, we stopped it. Thanks to you, Benji."

Well, saving hundreds of innocent lives is a decent outcome. But Benji's not convinced he did anything special. Before he can say as much, Ethan says, "Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah." Benji stands back and lets Ethan pass by him. "Sorry. I'm tired."

"Right. Of course. I'm sorry to bother you. I just—I couldn't sleep, and I was worried—" He runs his non-injured hand through his hair, causing it to stick up even more. Benji's rarely seen Ethan so nervous, so ruffled. It's kind of cute, kind of disquieting.

"Worried about?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You and me." 

The phrase just hangs out there between them. Benji shifts. If you'd asked him that morning, he would have said there was no "him and Ethan." Now he's not so sure.

"You don't have to do this," he says instead of touching that wasps nest. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"You're the one who looks like death warmed over."

"I just—I feel like I handled that badly and I need to know that you're—that you don't feel like I pushed you into it."

"No, Ethan," Benji says patiently. "You told me we could abort. I chose not to. You did what you had to do to make the mission a success. So did I. That's it."

"But I—"

"Stop blaming yourself. I knew what I was doing. And you…backed me up. So thank you."

"Don't." Ethan's voice is hard. His face is like stone.

"What?"

"Don't thank me for that. Ever."

"Ethan, whatever happened, it was an unusual situation. Stuff happens on missions and we move on. It's fine." Ethan does the hand-through-hair thing again. "Now can you stop literally trying to pull your hair out and let me get some sleep?"

"Sleep. Yeah. I'll go." Ethan suddenly looks sad, instead of frustrated or guilty. "I'll go," he says again, "but I just want to say that yeah, you're right that we did what we had to do for the mission. But I'll never not regret that being the first time I—"

Benji's kind of tired of Ethan's pregnant pauses. "What? First time you what, Ethan?"

"The first time I told you how I felt about you." Ethan stares at the ground.

Benji wants to say something, but for some reason his mouth won't cooperate. Or maybe it's his brain where the short-circuit is. Or maybe it's his heart.

"It's definitely not at all how I imagined it," Ethan says hollowly. 

"Tell me again."

Ethan lifts his head. "What?"

"Tell me, Ethan. Now."

Ethan's gaze softens. "I want you, Benji. I've wanted you for a long time. I want you so much I fall asleep thinking about you and I wake up wanting to see you and I hate it when we're not together and I kind of wish you were wearing a shirt right now because your chest is extremely distracting and your feet—I kind of have a thing for your feet. So, yeah. There it is. I'm crazy about you."

"You have a thing for my feet?"

"It's not like a major fetish or anything. I just really, really like your feet. And well, all of you, really. I think I have a Benji Dunn kink." Ethan's cheekbones are a becoming shade of pink.

"So before, over the comm, you weren't acting."

"No."

"And did you…um…finish?"

"Yes."

Benji groans. "You're right. That was definitely not at all how I imagined our first time, either."

Ethan smiles slightly. "How did you imagine it?"

"Well, there's usually a bed." Benji glances at the bed in the center of the room. "And we've got some blessed privacy. We won't be interrupted." He walks to the door, makes sure the do not disturb sign is hanging from the handle, then walks back over to face Ethan. "We start by kissing." He places a soft, chaste kiss on Ethan's mouth. He grins wickedly. "Then we take turns fucking each other into the mattress."

Ethan's cheekbones are now scarlet, but he's grinning as wide as Benji.

"Then what you do say we have a do-over?"

"Agreed."

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr @fictionallemons


End file.
